Fugitives
by steelcrash
Summary: The Autobots deal with changes after their battle with the Fallen while their human allies deal with issues of their own. Takes place approximately nine months after "Revenge of the Fallen" WARNING: Mild spoilers for "Transformers: Revenge of the Fallen"
1. Chapter 1

Fugitives

Chapter 1-Hidden

Nine months ago

The scream was unholy, primal—a sound that went unheard in the vastness of space. It was felt, elsewhere, the only acknowledgment of an event taking place light years away on a planet, designation Earth. A dream. It had to be nothing more than a dream. But it wasn't. Jarred from stasis, he felt the searing pain of a wound in his chest, fear as he couldn't free himself of the weapon running him through, then cold. . .systems kicked online, reaffirming Earth was indeed his destination. The lifeform waited a few moments, felt the distant echo of another mind, reassuring him, everything was fine, *they* were fine. . .

-----

Earth, today

Judy Witwicky hated funerals. Not because they were depressing, or anything like that, but because of moments like now. The part where the family and friends started talking about what they were going to do with the stuff left behind. Only in this case, "stuff" went beyond a house, personal effects and the affairs left unfinished. In this case, it included her 16-year-old nephew, Spike. His father, her brother-in-law, was dead, killed in battle in Afghanistan. A career Army Special Forces soldier, Irving Witwicky was the youngest Witwicky brother. He'd promised Spike his present tour would be his last deployment, but it was the last promise he'd ever break.

Now, Judy was having to listen to her sister-in-law, Rita (Rita was Ben's wife, Ron's oldest brother) talk about what "they" were going to do with Spike. "They" included Ben, their younger brother Eli and and Ron's sister, Ella, who the boy was staying with while his father was deployed. Except Ella said she couldn't deal with it anymore, and if the boy had another run-in with the law, she was done.

Judy left the room, rolled her eyes at her sister-in-law, Gina, Eli's wife, as she passed her in the kitchen. Gina was on her side, thankfully. Not like it meant much, but at least someone had her back. She passed through the kitchen, headed out to the garage.

Judy found Spike sitting on the hood of his father's pickup, jacket thrown down on the dirty garage floor, tie with it, the sleeves on his dress shirt rolled up, earphones in each ear, eyes closed, shutting out the world. Judy looked over her nephew, couldn't help comparing him to her own son at that age, just a few years ago. Spike wasn't as tall yet, was wider through the shoulders, had straight light brown hair cut short and unlike the rest of the Witwicky clan, sported blue eyes in stead of brown or hazel. Different, yet still family, but no one was treating him like it.

So what the kid made a few mistakes. They all did, her own Sam was no exception, although Sammy's mistakes tended to be just that, or accidents. He didn't go looking for trouble, it found him. Spike was just the opposite. He went looking for it, hence his record. Short, but he did have a record, another shame on the Witwicky name, according to the in-laws. Whatever, Judy thought. If only they knew what she knew. . .

But enough of that. She wanted to check on Spike. She set a hand on his shoulder, startling the boy, causing him to fall off the pickup.

He swore, looked up, saw he was in the presence of one of his aunts and stood, his expression somewhere between sheepish and fear of getting reamed for using foul language.

"Are you all right?" Judy asked.

Spike pulled the earphones from his ears. "Yeah, you scared me," he said.

"I didn't mean to," she said. "I just wanted to know how you are. . .I mean. . .I can probably guess how you're feeling. . .but. . ."

"You know, you're the only one that's asked," he said. "Well, you and Uncle Ron."

"Really?" Judy said, taken aback. What the hell was wrong with the rest of the Witwickys?

"Well, at least school's over now, so what are you going to do this summer?"

Spike shrugged. "I haven't thought that far ahead," he said.

"Are you going to stay with Ella? Or have the others offered?" Judy asked, hopeful.

"No one's said anything to me about it," Spike said. "I don't know. Honestly, I don't care. It's not like they give a damn anyway. . .you know what I mean. . .Aunt Ella thought this whole thing was temporary. And now it's not."

Judy reached out, took one of his hands, giving it a squeeze. "Well, if there's anything I can do. . ."

-----

A hotel room. Ben's place was so full of family and friends who came to pay their last respects to Irving that they were staying in a hotel room. And apparently, "cheap" didn't just apply to Judy's own husband's spending habits. Ben kindly offered to pay for a room at one of Springfield, Mo.'s finest Super 8 hotels. And of course, Ron accepted. She glared at her husband's back as he sat on the side of the bed, looking in the phone book for a decent restaurant.

Judy was kicking off her shoes, heels, which she hated. Give her her sneakers or her Crocs for gardening. . .She frowned. Her garden, now lovely and in bloom, more beautiful than ever, gracing the area around their new swimming pool. And the nursery. All those plants, flowers and trees waiting back in Tranquility, while her staff was probably mucking it all up. The busiest season for the business and she was away. She closed her eyes, counting to 10, trying to get back on track. The funeral was over. She thought it would be the hard part, but what was coming was going to be harder. Irving had been her favorite brother-in-law, the youngest, and the most like Ron. And now there was no one to look out for Irving's son.

"What sounds good?" Ron asked, turning around, looking at his wife, who was also divesting herself of her jewelry.

"I don't know," she said. "Pick something."

"If I pick, you'll just want something else," he said.

Judy picked up one of her shoes, tossed it at her husband's head, smiled as it made contact.

"Like I said, pick. I don't care," she said.

"OK. Get changed and we'll go to this diner--Scrambler's," Ron said.

Judy frowned. Ron raised an eyebrow.

"What? What have I done now?" he asked.

"Aren't you at all concerned about what's going to happen to Spike?" Judy said.

"It's not our problem," he said. "It's all being taken care of."

"They're going to put him into foster care," Judy said. "We can't let that happen."

"Judy, the decision's been made. He needs help. . ."

"Bullshit," she said. "He's been bounced between relatives for the past year—that's why his grades suck and he's gotten into trouble because nobody's bothered to set down any rules."

Ron grabbed his wife's hand. "It's already been decided," he said.

Judy bit her lip, thinking fast. She said the first thing that came to mind. "What if it was Sam?"

-----

NEST Headquarters, Diego Garcia

Sam Witwicky wished he was able to attend his uncle's funeral, but at the moment, he had bigger issues to deal with. Like helping an alien race recover its past with planet Earth. The going was slow, but he'd only been at it a few days. It was his choice to spend the summer with NEST—he'd been offered, and he'd accepted. Plus his parents knew exactly who he'd be with and what he'd be doing—helping the members of his Autobot family in a decidedly non-combat manner for once. Although if it came to that, he'd be willing to help out. Thank God his mother had no problem now turning him over to Optimus Prime and Bumblebee. Having someone die trying to protect her son was one quick way to change Judy Witwicky's mind about them.

Bumblebee was glad to see him, as was Optimus and the others. A few new Autobots had even shown up since the incident with the Fallen last autumn—Sideswipe's twin, Sunstreaker. He smiled at that thought. Epps had taken to calling the twins by the nicknames Lennox gave them—"Silent" and "Deadly." Silent for Sunstreaker because he was a mech of few words and Deadly for Sideswipe because he was that in battle.

Other new arrivals were Prowl and Bluestreak, Red Alert and the engineer Wheeljack. Five in nine months. Not bad, but more were hoped for because there were still plenty of Decepticons on Earth hiding. And looming larger than that was the fact Megatron and Starscream were still alive and unaccounted for. No one had heard or seen anything of them since they left after the battle in Egypt.

Another matter was the artifact now in Autobot possession—the Matrix of Leadership, now carried by Optimus Prime, as was his right and his duty as the last Prime. That, Sam knew, was a misnomer. Optimus wasn't the last Prime—he was the only Prime. In the past months the Autobots had been able to unravel that since the deaths of the original 12 Primes, one Prime existed at a time, or that was what they thought. Others could have existed in the time since the original 13 (including the Fallen) and now, but the knowledge and wisdom contained in the Matrix was vast and mostly unknown.

-----

Making impact with a planet hurt. A lot. More than any injury he'd ever taken in battle, and there had been plenty in his short life. More than some should have to bear. But here he was, alone, slightly dazed and wondering what he was going to do now. So much for the wisdom of vaunted elders, he thought.

He ran a scan, picking up on the primitive network spread across the planet, searching for an acceptable Earth mode, downloading the native local language as well as the rest of them just in case and whoa. . .there. . .the appropriate words to describe just what he thought of his present situation. They weren't directed at anyone he actually cared about, more like someone's error in judgment and the Decepticons.

Decepticons. Anger welled up inside him. They were why he was now on Earth, instead of with those he cared about most. And duty and responsibility. . .all because of the mark on his head and his name. But those two things did not define him. No. He was who he chose to be, and he would not have a destiny he did not desire forced upon him. Although at the moment, it looked like fate had other plans. He knew that now. He was separated from his brother and for all he knew, Kup and Ultra Magnus were dead. But he couldn't worry about that right now. He had other Autobots to find, but first, a little walking to do to find a suitable Earth mode.

Rodimus Prime stared up at the alien sky, just for a second, searching, but he saw nothing. He sighed, started walking in the direction of the nearest settlement, trying to avoid detection.


	2. Chapter 2

Fugitives

Chapter 2-Safe

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

NEST Headquarters

Maj. William Lennox, field commander of the NEST team, checked his gear and eyeballed his team as he climbed aboard the C17 waiting to take off. Depending on the weather, and if they were lucky, about a 20 hour flight from the atoll to Vandenberg Air Force Base, along with probably four refuels, then once they were wheels down, another couple of hours to Vegas. The head honchos wouldn't let them fly into Nellis because it was a "sensitive" area. He'd give them sensitive. . .He sighed. Why the hell couldn't they move to the mainland?

The government was still dealing with the fallout from the Egyptian incident and most of the population of Earth had written off the whole thing with the Fallen as an elaborate hoax and the attacks in cities around the world as terrorist in origin. And thankfully, Galloway had been replaced by someone they could live with. The former Ranger grinned as he took his seat by an Air Force tech sergeant who was pulling his Ipod out of one of his many pockets.

"Man, what you grinning about?" Sgt. Robert Epps asked.

"Just hoping the boys in Washington are having fun with Simmons," he said.

"Don't mention him," Epps said, popping his earbuds into his ears, closing his eyes for the long trip to the States.

Lennox clapped his friend on the shoulder, gave his team, both human and not another look. The humans were talking among themselves, checking gear, while their alien counterparts sat silent, waiting. Prowl, newly arrived, and Optimus' old second in command, was heading up this hunt, backed up by Sideswipe, Arcee, Chromia and Jolt. Considering they were looking for one possible hostile, Optimus and Lennox decided to go with speed and agility over firepower, although none of the Autobots on this mission were slouches when it came to fighting.

The soldier gave everyone a last look before closing his own eyes. Maybe he could sneak home when they were done. . .

-----

Optimus Prime watched the transport plane take off, wishing his friends luck. He would've gone, but he'd committed the next few days to Sam, and helping him. And there was also the matter of Ratchet, who wouldn't let him go.

The medic was standing with him, watching the plane also.

"I know you wish you were with them," Ratchet said. "But those system anomalies I've been picking up the past few days mean you stay here until I can give you a clean bill of health."

Optimus gave his companion a sidelong glance. "I told you I'm fine," he said.

"I know you feel fine. There seems to be nothing amiss, but you've undergone some trauma in the past few months, need I remind you. . ." Ratchet said.

"I don't need reminded," Optimus said.

"And I still question the logic of carrying that. . .artifact within you," Ratchet said.

"It is my duty," Optimus said. "I am Prime. It is my responsibility."

"Don't remind me," Ratchet said. "I'm going to go see what mischief Bumblebee and those boys have gotten into."

Optimus smiled. "Don't tell Ironhide."

"I'm not crazy," Ratchet said, walking away.

Optimus kept his gaze on the sky, thinking. So many changes. . .but good ones, mostly. Like having Sam on base while he was off from school. Bumblebee was happy, and so was the other young human, Leo, Sam's former roommate, who had quit school and was now part of NEST.

The plane now out of sight, the Autobot leader turned his attention back to the matter at hand. He couldn't be hunting with his friends, but he could offer help when it was time.

-----

A salvage yard. That's what the sentient organics on this planet called it. Rodimus called it salvation. He managed to find a car parked out front that was still running and its form wasn't too reprehensible, scanning it for his Earth mode. That done, he found a place to park among the wreckage to rest and heal from his long voyage. But nothing could keep him from dreaming.

_"It must be done."_

_"My aft," Kup responded. "He's too young. And if we leave them. . ."_

_"Rodimus has proven himself time and again as a fighter, even though I find his judgment somewhat lacking in soundness," Ultra Magnus said. "No, he must go to Earth. It's the only way."_

_"You are not the leader here," Kup said. _

_"Neither are you," Ultra Magnus said. _

_Optics blazing, Rodimus and Springer watched as Kup brought his weapons to bear on the old general. "I should kill you now," Kup said. "You've done nothing but meddle."_

_"It's *his* fault we're in the situation we're in," Ultra Magnus said, pointing an accusing finger at Rodimus. "If he'd learn to control his abilities. . ."_

_"How can he control them when he didn't even know he had them until he had that dream?" Kup said. _

_"The Seekers have found us--you identified them yourself," Ultra Magnus said. "Their leader and his lieutenant are hunting us because of Rodimus."_

_"Don't ignore me," Rodimus said. "I know what I've done--and it was an accident. How many times do I have to tell you that? By the way, your plan stinks. I could just get us all to this Earth in seconds. . ."_

_"And Cyclonus and Scourge would track us, and where would we be then? No, we separate. Kup and I will draw them off, you and Springer will take different courses to Earth. It's the only way," Ultra Magnus said. _

_Rodimus exchanged a glance with his twin. They'd never been separated before, not for long, not like this. Kup had managed to keep them together since he found them. He was their guardian, their protector, teacher, now they were grown, their friend, and they still trusted his judgment and guidance._

_"We'll do it," Rodimus said. "But not because you order it, but because I know it's what I have to do."_

_-----_

The NEST C17 had to divert to San Diego because of weather; further delays were caused by faulty communications gear and an argument between Prowl and Sideswipe regarding the chain of command and how any encounter with a hostile should be handled. Sideswipe did have a valid point, Lennox had to give him that, but he'd had to step in and explain it was just like it would be if Optimus was leading the mission--command would be shared jointly between the most senior Autobot and himself. And of course, by the time they actually managed to get on the ground the bogey was already gone and all that was left was minute traces of radiation.

"Well that was fun, wasn't it?" Epps sniped as they watched rain come down on the tarmac from a nearby hangar.

"You're telling me," Lennox muttered. "We flew all this way for nothing."

"Well, maybe not," Epps said. "They've been promising us a little time off away from base, so maybe now's the time to ask if we can have it because we are so close to home and family."

"Not a bad idea," Lennox said. "I was hoping. . .the men could use a break, and San Diego is as good as any place else."

-----

Two weeks later

Tranquility, Nevada

"Judy, don't make me regret this," Ron said, glancing at his wife.

"Whatever," Judy said, throwing her suitcase into the back of her car. "My flight's at 3, remember I'll be staying overnight at Ben's and our flight back is at 10 tomorrow morning, so don't forget. . .and oh yeah. . .Mojo's vet appointment is in an hour. . .one hour Ron. . .Are you even paying attention?"

He wasn't. He was staring down at his cell phone.

"Sorry. . .just got a text from work. You were saying?" Ron said.

"Why don't you go and I'll stay?" Judy said as she threw her purse into the passenger seat.

"Mojo--one hour, flight at 3 today and 10 in the morning," Ron said. "It's all written down."

He walked over, kissed his wife. "I love you," he said.

She smacked her husband in the back of the head, climbed in the car, blew him a kiss once she was behind the wheel. He smiled, waved at her, walked back into the house.

For the first time in a very long time, Ronald Witwicky was truly alone. Well, the dogs counted, sort of. No Sam, no Judy, no freaking alien robot hanging out in the garage piping music outside for them to hear when they were out in the yard. Damn. He even missed Bumblebee. And what was he going to do with himself for an entire day alone? After Mojo's appointment, he'd have the rest of the day to himself, a Friday afternoon at that. Golf? No. Take a cruise in the covertible? No fun without Judy.

He stopped when he heard a familiar noise--a soft grunting coming from the direction of the couch.

"Mojo!"

The Chihuahua and bull dog dove off the couch together. "Outside," Ron said. "Take it to the penthouse."

He shooed them out, praying the damn bull dog wouldn't fall into the pool. Again. Sighing, he went back inside, sat down on the couch, noticing the photo albums Judy had left out on the coffee table. Ron picked one up, flipped it open, noticing it was one of their newer ones, the ones from family gatherings and holidays. Judy had their photo albums organized by two categories--their little family unit and everyone else. This was one of the "everyone else" books--and as he flipped through, he noticed she'd marked certain pages with lengths of ribbon, each page had a particularly interesting picture of him and Irving, or just Irving and Spike. Ron sighed again. Judy was damn serious about making this thing with his nephew work.

So serious, in fact, Ron knew he was just along for the ride this time. It was scary how fast his wife could get things done when she wanted. With the help of their lawyer, she'd gotten the ball rolling fast. Luckily, Ben and Ella were relieved to have an option that kept Spike in the family, and were willing to do what had to be done to get all the red tape sorted out. Fortunately, the judge, Spike's probation officer and social worker were happy to have a solution that kept the boy out of the system, would hopefully provide stability and structure with people who actually wanted him.

Ron did want his nephew, just hadn't been expecting Judy railroading him into it so quickly. The house was too quiet with Sam and Bumblebee gone and Judy running her own business now.

There. Another scary thought, but it was working out better than they could have dreamed. The nursery, which they'd opened just before Thanksgiving last year, was a success so far. It specialized in plant varieties that did well in a desert landscape and and organic gardening. Locally, business was booming and the Internet side was bustling as well. It was doing so well, in fact, Ron was spending most of his time at home taking care of the Internet orders because he enjoyed it and so Judy could take care of her side of things.

He was spending so much time working on their business that he was seriously thinking of quitting his job. It had changed--the company had sold a few months before, there had already been a couple of rounds of layoffs and management was thinking of downsizing again and outsourcing. Yes, that was great for the local economy, Ron thought. And if the punk who he was "training" texted him one more time, that was it. . .

His phone vibrated. "Damn it. . ."

He looked at it. A message from Judy--'Mojo 15 minutes.'

Ron sighed, went outside, scooped up the Chihuahua, grabbed his car keys. Things could be worse, he reflected. Much worse.

-----

Bobby Boliva looked at the latest acquisitions Manny, his former mechanic, had brought back on his most recent buying trip. Not too bad for his new partner, Bobby thought as he eyed the cars. Since the Camaro incident nearly three years before, the quality of the cars on the lot had been steadily improving. They still kept a wide variety of the old merchandise around, just in case, but after the insurance had paid for fixing up the place, Bobby had a brain storm. The real money was in classics. Real classic cars--like Mustangs, Camaros, and stuff like that, but also cars like the two 1962 Mini Coopers sitting on the flat bed behind a real beauty (so what it was a little beat up, paint faded and a couple of rust spots)--a 1965 Mustang Shelby, gunmetal grey with black racing stripes. Looked like the one from that Nick Cage movie.

Bobby rubbed his hands together in anticipation, knowing once somebody saw that car, he'd be rolling in the dough, especially if it still ran.

"Manny, move those minis and get that Mustang down here," Bobby said. "I wanna make sure it still runs."

Manny looked his business partner in the eye. "Jefe principal gordo loco. Consígalo abajo usted mismo que acabo de conducir a partir de 10 horas e incluso no consigo en le agradezco. Me muerdo," he said.

"How many times do I have to tell you not to go Ricky Ricardo on me?" Bobby said.

"Give me a few minutes," Manny said. "Or you can climb up yourself and see. The keys are in the ignition."

"Why didn't you say so?" Bobby said, jumping up on the trailer. He opened the Mustang's door, climbed inside. Hmm. . .not bad. The interior was still in really good shape. Almost too good, given the outward appearance of the car. Then he frowned. Oh God no. . .not another one. . .He checked the steering wheel, gear shift and the console for the infernal symbol that meant the car he was sitting in was no ordinary car. Seeing none, he relaxed, reached for the key. Miraculously, the car started right up. But then it backfired. Not bad. Maybe he'd keep it and get it fixed up. Satisfied, Bobby got out of the car and jumped down. If Manny kept this up, he'd be earning himself another bonus.

-----

4:30 a.m. local Saturday morning, Diego Garcia

Sam yawned. It was early to be up but he was doing better than Leo, who was still half-asleep. Standing by them, at attention, obviously used to this kind of thing, was Graham, the SASF soldier who was in charge of the human half of the NEST team until Lennox returned from a much-needed leave. Towering over them all was Optimus Prime, who was flanked by Ratchet. They were waiting on one of the Navy's CH-53E Super Stallion choppers, which was bringing in a Cybertronian cometary form that had crashed into the Bering Sea six days ago.

Sam knew so far, there was no indication it was a Decepticon, but regardless of the faction, it was damaged and in need of help, according to all of the humans who'd gotten a close look at it. That was why Ratchet was there; Sam was there mostly for moral support, as was Leo. Graham and Optimus were there because they had to be.

Sam heard the WHUP WHUP of the helicopter's blades long before he saw it, but it didn't take long to come into sight. They watched as the helicopter lowered its cargo gently, then released the cable holding it once it was touching the ground. As the Sea Stallion pulled away, the humans watched the Autobots make their way to the cometary form.

Ratchet scanned it, as did Prime.

"Not too much damage," Ratchet said. "This one's lucky."

"Then why hasn't it transformed?" Prime asked.

"Disorientation? Trauma? Hard to say," the medic said. "Maybe if we try communicating. . ."

He switched to his internal comm, and Cybertronian.

:You're safe. You've made it to Earth. I am Ratchet, and the big one beside me is Optimus Prime:

:Prime? Optimus Prime? Earth? I'm really here?:

:Yes: Ratchet said. :Can you transform?:

:I'll try. . .:

Ratchet stepped back, pulling Prime with him, giving the protoform space.

After a few tries, it unfolded into its bipedal form, stood up.

Autobot leader and medic exchanged a glance. From the size, the protoform wasn't much older than Bumblebee.

:I didn't think any other younglings survived: Prime said.

:Apparently, we were wrong: Ratchet said.

"Access the local network so you can speak in the language the humans here prefer," Prime said. He waited a few moments, then spoke again. "What is your name?"

"Springer," he said.

Ratchet placed a hand on the young Autobot's shoulder. "Springer, welcome to Earth," he said. "C'mon. Let's get you fixed up."

-----

Will Lennox did not want to answer his cell phone. He was sitting on a beach in Hawaii, watching his wife Sarah build a sand castle with their daughter.

"Lennox. . .what? What do you mean, unexplained energy signatures? Like something popping in and out? How is that possible? Well did you ask one of *them*? Well I suggest you do because I sure as hell can't tell you. . .Yeah, at least one of them could. . .but. . .wait. . .ask the kid, he's actually experienced it and he's standing right there?" A momentary pause. "What? When? That many? Why the hell didn't somebody tell me before now? Yeah, fine. . .you bet your ass I'm on my way back. . ."

Lennox turned off the phone, threw it down on his towel, and then he noticed Sarah was giving him a look.

"You have to go, don't you?" she asked.

"Yes," he said. "Sarah, I'm so sorry. . ."

"Ten days is better than nothing at all," she said. "I wasn't even hoping for that much."

"I know," he said. "But. . ."

She smiled. "I understand."

-----

Spike Witwicky set down his duffel bag, surveying his new surroundings. His cousin Sam's room was now his. It was big, cluttered, covered in posters and had lots of windows that looked out on the backyard, which included a pool. And the backyard looked like it belonged in a magazine. He grinned, feeling better than he had in a long time.

He heard his aunt calling him from downstairs. "Spike, get your butt down here if you want something to eat."

The boy complied, taking the steps two at a time, nearly killed himself trying to avoid one of the dogs as he hit bottom. He walked into the kitchen, where Judy shoved a plate toward him.

"I know--grilled cheese isn't exactly a welcome to our house meal, but I promise we'll grill out or something tomorrow," she said. "I'm sure Ron'll want to show off that grill of his. After you eat, we can go for a drive and I'll take for a look around the neighborhood, or you can swim, or just unpack. Whatever you want. But I do need you to give me about five minutes at some point so I can go over a few things with you--nothing big, just some. . .ground rules, OK?"

"That's fine," Spike said, taking a bit out of his sandwich. "When will Uncle Ron be home?"

"Whenever the beer runs out or they close the golf course for the night," she said.

"Sounds fun," Spike said, throwing a piece of crust to the begging Chihuahua.

"Do you like to golf?" Judy asked, picking up her own sandwich.

"Putt putt," Spike answered.

"Me too," Judy said. "The only reason why I go the country club with him is so I can drive the golf cart. But your uncle hates it when I drive because he says I can get a little crazy. . ."

Spike was starting to look a little nervous, so Judy switched subjects. "I know you like cars, right? I was looking at your transcripts last night and the only class you aced last semester was your auto shop class," she said.

"I love cars," Spike said, smiling.

"You'd love Sam's car, a Camaro," Judy said. "But he took it with him but maybe when he comes back after his internship you can see it. It's a really fantastic. . .car."

--

An hour later, Spike was being held hostage in his aunt's car as she drove around town, pointing out the sites and what house belonged to who. He was nearly ready to dive out at the next stop sign when she pulled into the lot of a not-so-reputable looking car dealership. She stopped the car, cut the engine.

"This place is better than it used to be," she said. "At least the petting zoo has more than an ostrich now. Mr. Bolivia is pretty nice, though. . ."

Judy noticed Spike was again looking nervous. Like she was crazy or something.

"Spike, remember I said there are a few things we need to talk about?"

He nodded.

"Well, first off, there are just a few rules you'll need to follow under my roof. First--you'll have a few chores, nothing big, like taking out the trash, mowing the front yard, helping with the dishes and if you want, walking the dogs," Judy said. "Like I said, you will have to do chores, but which ones are negotiable. Two--curfew. 11 p.m. on Fridays and Saturdays, nine the rest of the week. Again, not negotiable. I know you turned 16 a few weeks ago, and we'll get you your license next week sometime. And leave your uncle to me."

"Um, Aunt Judy. . .I didn't think I was going to be able to get my license for a while? Uncle Ben said. . ."

"Ben is not here and you are under my care now, understand?" Judy said. She didn't wait for a response. "Three--you are getting a job. It's already lined up and before you say anything, it's not at the nursery. Ron wanted it to be so we could keep an eye on you but no. . .if you're going to work, it might as well be something you like, which is why we're here. I hope you know how to change oil because that's what you're going to be doing this summer, from 8 to noon every weekday until school starts."

Spike looked dazed. "You got me a job? Working on cars?" He threw his arms around his aunt, hugging her. "Thanks."

She patted him on the back. "You're welcome. While we're here, we might as well take a look around," she said. "See if you find something you like. Again, you're gonna need a car. . ."

Before she could point anything out to him, Spike was already running his hand down the side of an old Mustang. She walked up beside him, smiling appreciatively.

"Nothing else will do, right?"

"It's nice," Spike said. "Dad had one when he was in high school. I mean, it wasn't the same year or color, but. . ."

"It's what you like," Judy answered. "I remember that car. . .your dad and Ron got into a lot of trouble with that thing."

"Really?" Spike asked, interested.

"Oh yes," Judy said. "Although it's nothing compared to what happened with the other one, Irving's Dodge."

"The Charger? What happened?"

"Your dad was 15, Ron was 17 and they bought the car together. . .Ron let your dad drive. They got arrested," Judy said. "That's not all that happened, either."

"I've never heard that story before," Spike said. "Why not?"

"Ron swore they'd never tell, but they did because Irving told me everything," Judy said. "C'mon. Let's go."

She put her arm around her nephew, who gave the Mustang one last look. Maybe he was crazy, but he swore it felt warm. . .alive under his hand. But that was nuts. It was warm just from being out in the sun all day, right?


	3. Chapter 3

Fugities

Chapter 3-Calm

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Voices. Organics. One of them was touching him, but it seemed harmless enough. From the information he'd downloaded, Rodimus deduced part of a family unit--a female and a youngling. Yes, female humans were harmless unless provoked into protecting their offspring from a threat. He listened, watched as they climbed into their vehicle. These organics seemed interesting and complex considering the primitiveness of their civilization.

Rodimus waited until they were out of sight, decided now that he was awake it was time to start looking for the other Autobots on Earth. Almost three Earth years had passed since receiving the message from Optimus Prime, although Rodimus knew they could be anywhere by now. And as for the other Prime, Optimus, he'd felt him die all those months before. Springer felt it too, through their bond as twins, and there was no denying it--it had happened, was not just a dream when they both experienced it. He'd felt something else, too, just days later--the destruction of something ancient and evil. Those two events had been the catalyst for the manifestation of two abilities he didn't know he had.

One was useful, the other deadly, but both dangerous. Because if he opened a space bridge again, the Seekers would find him and kill him.

Rodimus started up his engine, but suddenly he felt an overpowering urge, knew it was right. He would stay, for now.

-----

NEST, Diego Garcia

Sam listened to Lennox argue with Gen. Morshower over teleconference. The NEST leader wasn't happy with being kept out of the loop with what was happening, but then again, it hadn't occurred to any of them that what they were seeing was important. Turned out the unexplained energy signatures were space bridges opening and closing--four in two weeks, all across the United States. And thanks to Simmons and Wheelie, they were able to connect the energy signatures to the known locations of dormant Seekers.

They hadn't sent out any NEST teams to check out the four Seeker locations, but that point was moot now, Sam knew. They would be sending someone, but who remained to be seen. Space bridges opened on Earth. Not good, Sam thought. Not good at all because the only Cybertronians, as far as they knew, with the ability to create transspatial gateways were Seekers and the Fallen.

"Think this will end well?" Leo whispered.

Sam shrugged and and Optimus gave them a look, trying to shush them as he listened to Lennox.

"Sir, next time something like this happens, ASK. That's all I'm saying, OK? They know more about than we do, or ask the kid, hell, call his parents," Lennox said, wincing at his breach in protocol.

"Major, your point is well taken," Morshower said. "Get to the bottom of this. That's an order."

Lennox sighed once the connection was cut. Sam and Leo watched him climb down from the communications platform.

"Looks like we're headed back to the States soon," Lennox said. "But for now. . .Sam, Leo, get with Bumblebee and the tech guys and see what you can do about getting satellite images of those four space bridge sites. For now, we're gonna put NEST teams on the ground to keep an eye on those remaining Seekers."

The NEST soldier looked up at Optimus, hoping the Autobot leader agreed with his logic.

"That is appropriate for now, although we should put a team on standby just in case," Optimus said. "Although it would be premature to send any Autobot teams until necessary."

"I agree," Lennox said. "No point in bringing out the heavy artillery until it's needed. I hope this doesn't head south, but. . .we'll be ready. We'll have to be. But can you go if something does happen? I don't care what Ratchet says, this is too big for you to not be there. Space bridges. . .What next?"

-----

The details taken care of, Optimus watched as Ratchet ran a scan on the new arrival, Springer. "Do you think he'll be up for a mission so so soon? I haven't even had a chance to talk to him yet. . ." Optimus said.

"You can talk to him when I'm done with both of you," Ratchet said. "Might want to talk to him about the Earth mode he's chosen. . .one of the NEST Humvees, the HX, I believe. He wouldn't take no for an answer. But as far as a mission is concerned, the final decision is yours."

"It's suitable, although Springer, I do suggest you remove the NEST logos," Optimus suggested. "It would draw less attention to yourself. The humans are not supposed to know we exist."

The young Autobot nodded as Ratchet finished his scan. "He's rested, recharged, systems operating at nominal levels despite his crash landing," Ratchet said. "I don't see why he can't go, unless you think otherwise."

The younger Autobot glanced between the two.

"Springer, go bug Major Lennox while I finish with Prime," Ratchet said. "You can talk with him when I'm done."

Optimus frowned at the medic, but stood still while he ran a series of scans. The Autobot leader contented himself with thinking about the assignments for the coming mission, if needed. Ironhide could stay behind this time, with Arcee, Chromia and Wheeljack as backup, just in case. Bumblebee would be going to Nevada with Sam and Leo and Prowl could take Sunstreaker, Red Alert and Jolt. That would leave him with Sideswipe, Bluestreak and Ratchet.

Ratchet slapped him on the back. "No system anomalies at this time," Ratchet said. "We're good to go, just give the word."

Optimus nodded. Six Seekers remained on Earth. They couldn't revive them, but they could protect them. It wasn't much, but every bit of their past they could salvage was important, not matter how trivial. And maybe because they'd used the Matrix to revive him, could it be used on others as well?

-----

Monday morning. Spike was still half-asleep as his aunt drove him to work, prattling on about EVERYTHING under the sun. He didn't mind though. She was _happy_. Happy was a nice change from the drama he was used to with his other relatives. And he knew he could deal with a lot less drama for a while. Aunt Ella's drama for the entire school year about how he was being a "bad" influence on his cousins, Grace and Zoe; and then there was Uncle Ben and Aunt Rita. Uncle Ben could lay down a guilt trip like no other. Every lecture over the phone started the same way--as the head of the Witwicky clan it was his place to blah, blah, blah.

Spike could recite it by word now if someone asked him to. Not that he would, ever.

". . .and I know you don't have a cell phone, so we'll take care of that this week to, so until then, here's mine," Judy said, handing her nephew her phone.

He looked down, surprised.

"Spike, haven't you been listening?" she asked.

"Sorta," Spike muttered.

"Phone. Call me when you get off work," she said. "So I can come pick you up, OK?"

He noticed they were already pulling into Bolivia's car lot, and his eyes immediately went to the Mustang. It did not go unnoticed by his aunt, but she didn't say anything. She parked the car, walked him inside the dealership office, where Bolivia was waiting.

Seeing Judy Witwicky, one woman he did not want to piss off, Bobby stood, took off his hat.

"Why Judy, you're looking radiant, as ever," he said.

"Mr. Bolivia, and you're full of crap, as always," Judy said, but she was smiling as she said it.

Whatever, Bobby thought, switching his attention to the kid. "You must be Spike," he said, offering a hand, which Spike shook. "Hope you really like cars, kid, because there's plenty of work to be done around here."

Judy crossed her arms, raised a questioning eyebrow.

Bobby frowned. "I'm not gonna work him to death. I finally realized that doesn't work," he said. "Treat your employees good and they'll treat you good back. And to show you, kid, I'm starting you out at $8 an hour. That's better than minimum wage, and believe me, you're gonna earn every cent."

Another glare from the aunt.

"Lady, I'm not running a sweat shop here," Bobby said. "He's gonna spend the morning washing and going over the latest acquisitions. Two minis and that Mustang."

The glance the kid threw the Mustang was also noticed by Bobby.

"Kid, go find Manny in the garage and he'll get you started. I wanna go over a thing or two with your aunt," Bobby said.

Spike practically bolted from the office, leaving Bobby and Judy alone.

"Now, he's gonna need a car, right? Because a businesswoman like yourself has important things to do and you can't be runnin' a kid all over the place all the time," Bobby said. "And I saw him eyein' that Mustang. Just came in Friday. It still runs, looks like the interior's in pretty good shape. Manny picked it up at auction in Arizona. Now, I'm willing to give it to you cheap. . ."

"How cheap?"

Bobby raised an eyebrow.

"How much you got?" he asked.

"I'm thinking something more along the lines of a trade," Judy said. "Your landscaping is atrocious and your mother's yard could use some flowers. How about that? Make your momma happy with a pretty yard and bring in more customers by making the place look more respectable."

Bobby had to admit Judy had him there. "I sold your son that Camaro three years ago for $4,000. Now that Mustang is older, a real classic, and it still runs. Don't know if it drives, but it starts and runs. I'm gonna say. . .it's worth at least $6,000 in flowers."

"We both know that Camaro had. . .questionable origins," Judy said.

"Well, this time, it's not a foreign car," Bobby said. "I checked it over myself Friday and I can guarantee it's local in origin, if you get my drift. So I'd say the extra cash on the price is just insurance."

"$5,000 in flowers," Judy said.

"Deal," Bobby said. "Want the kid to drive it home today?"

"No," Judy said. "Are you crazy? He doesn't have his license, and besides, don't you have to tag it and all that stuff?"

"Yeah, you're right," Bobby said. "I won't tell the kid then."

"Thanks," Judy said. "Just let me know when it's ready."

"Sure thing," Bobby said, scratching his head as he watched her go. He was a sucker, he knew, for not keeping the damn car and trying to sell it for what he could get, but the chance to spruce up the place was too much. And his momma did deserve an even nicer yard. And at least this time, he wasn't selling a damn alien robot. The feds had him over a barrel since the Bumblebee incident, and he'd signed a non-disclosure agreement, which had come along with the promise of money to fix up the dealership. That and the insurance money made a big difference--nicer business, happier staff and bigger house for him and his momma.

-----

Spike saved the Mustang for last. The car was covered in dust but looked like it was in good shape for its age. A few rust spots, he noticed, but nothing huge, and they weren't all the way through the sheet metal. Another good sign, he thought as he ran the hose over the car.

Two hours later, he was covered in grime from cleaning the car inside and out a well as crawling underneath it to get a good look at it. The floorpans were solid, and there was no rust in the trunk. Somebody let a good car get away from them, he thought. Sucker. Maybe if he begged his aunt and uncle would consider it? He was only 16, did need a car, but a car like this was almost too much to hope for. If he was lucky, he'd get a used Kia or something like that, a nice, solid dependable car with good fuel economy. Maybe a pickup, he could live with that. But then again, anything with wheels and an engine that he could drive would be better than nothing at all.

His aunt and uncle were taking a chance, laying it all on the line for him--providing him with the necessities and then some, but he understood his aunt's thinking. She was trusting him, giving him a chance by giving him his freedom, and giving him the choice of keeping what was given or throwing it all away with bad choices. Well, Spike Witwicky was done with bad choices.

He was done with the Mustang, staring at the car when his boss came walking up.

"Kid, you did real nice cleaning that car up," Bobby said. "Why don't you take it for a spin around the block, see how she runs?"

"Sir, is that such a good idea?" Spike asked.

Bobby walked around behind the car, slapped a dealer tag on it. "There. All nice and legal. Just don't get pulled over. Five minutes. Think you can handle that?"

Spike was ready to say he could think of a few very valid reasons why he couldn't handle it, like no license, his aunt would kill him, probation again which would lead to no license but the somewhat gleaming Mustang glinting in the sun tagged all nice and legal with the keys in the ignition and an adult with dubious morals who was willing to look the other way for the five minutes necessary to test out the car was too much.

"Sure," Spike said.

--

Rodimus Prime was content to watch the human activity around him, became even more interested with the human ritual of bathing their inanimate machines when it switched to him. The lavish use of water surprised and fascinated him--Cybertron had little in the way of free water, but this planet was covered in it. But still. . .

Then the youngling kept staring. Not that Rodimus could blame him--the Earth form he chose did have a certain allure to it--fast and dangerous, like the young Prime himself. But he knew from the Internet his vehicular form was much coveted because of its age and worth.

Even more curious was when the older human, designation Bobby, attached the magnetic strip to his bumper and the youngling, Spike, got in, turned the key and the engine started up. Rodimus knew he had to act like one of the human vehicles or he would be discovered. So he did what he must, even though he didn't like the though of letting a. . .a sparkling control his movements. He let Spike have control, although he was ready to take over if necessary.

The boy eased his form into traffic, coasted up to the stop light, turned, drove very slowly around the block until they came to another corner and a stop sign, more slow going until they pulled back into the lot. Spike parked the car, got out. For an old car, it ran amazingly well. He sighed, leaned against it. Again, it was curious that the car, which had been sitting out in the sun, should have roasting sheet metal by now, but it was just warm to the touch. He was probably imagining things again.

-----

Diego Garcia

Optimus Prime was laying down the law with the latest arrival, Springer. The younger Autobot was listening attentively, but Optimus couldn't help noticing his expression--the look on his face was somewhere between awe and disbelief. Why, he couldn't imagine, but he was glad for once to have the rapt attention of someone under his command. Usually, when they were getting grilled, or lectured, or whatever they rationalized his talks as, they were bored, angry, or resigned.

Then he noticed Springer's attention waning, like he was spacing out.

"Springer, are you listening?" Optimus asked, trying to keep him on task.

"Yes. . .can't let the humans see us in our true forms, that's why we're here on this island, the humans here know about us and and are our allies. I think that covers the last part," Springer said, biting back a grin.

Flippant. Great. Just what he needed. At least Skids and Mudflap were tormenting Simmons in Washington.

"At least you've gained a quick understanding of the work we're trying to accomplish," Optimus said. "I would like to include you on my team next mission, which we're still waiting to hear back about. Now, I have a few questions for you. . ."

Uh oh, Springer thought.

"Did you come to Earth alone? A few days before your arrival, we picked up another cometary form, but were unable to find it," Optimus said.

"I arrived on my own," Springer said.

"You know of no other Autobots who could be on their way?" Optimus asked, hopeful.

"No," Springer said.

Optimus frowned. Something told him the Autobot in front of him was lying. Why, he could not fathom, but he had more important matters to attend. He was being called to the main hangar.

--

Ironhide and Prowl flanked their leader as they listened to the first of the reports from their human counterparts in the field stateside. And the news wasn't good. Two of the teams were reporting the Seekers in their locations were gone, with only trace amounts of radiation remaining. It meant something Cybertronian had been there. Two locations left but it would take time. Getting teams to the mainland had taken several days because of the usual reasons--resources, weather, red tape.

"What do you think we should do now?" Lennox asked.

"We wait," Optimus said.

-----

Tranquility

"Judy, you didn't," Ron Witwicky admonished his wife.

"Yeah, I did," Judy said.

"How much? Did you write a check or what?" Ron asked.

"I haven't paid a thing yet. I'm trading plants and landscaping for the car," she said.

"WHAT? How much are we talking? You're going to take a loss. . ."

"Ron, shut up and listen. $5,000 and we've done that already this month alone, so it's not a problem. Spike needs a car, and he wanted that one so. . ." Judy said.

"What kind of car is it? What year? Is it something dependable?" Ron said.

She pulled the covers up over her head. "A '65 Mustang fastback."

"A hatchback? What kind? A Gremlin? A Pacer? My God Judy those are the two worst cars ever," Ron said.

His wife pulled the covers down. "A 1965 Mustang fastback," she said.

Ron turned pale. "What? Why don't we just haul him down to jail right now? Are you out of your mind?" he said.

"He wanted it," Judy said. "It was the only car Spike would even look at. Besides, he knows what's at stake if he messes up. Counseling, probation. . ." she said.

"Locked in his room when he's not at work," Ron said. "No phone, TV, maybe a few books for entertainment if he's lucky. He'll think school is a relief when it starts if he messes up."

Judy punched her husband in the shoulder. "Hey--at least you got your wish," she said. "He's going to be doing the landscaping for me."

Ron smiled. His wife was one wily woman. "Working his ass off for that car, eh?"

"Yeah," Judy said.

-----

The next morning, Spike did indeed get his posterior worked off, both for his boss, then for his aunt. He was seriously thinking about barricading himself in his room the rest of the night when his aunt called him downstairs after she got home from work.

"Glad to see you're cleaned up," she said. "C'mon. We're meeting your uncle for dinner."

Spike sighed, but smiled as his aunt ruffled his hair, threw an arm across his shoulders as he walked outside with her. He was safe, free, and more importantly, now belonged to two people who cared. Not that his other relatives hadn't cared. It was just different. He was starting to feel like himself again, like he had when it was just him and his dad.

-----

Rodimus Prime was trying to be patient, but he wasn't the most patient of mechs to begin with. Kup just dealt with it; Ultra Magnus could barely tolerate it. But they weren't here now; he was alone with the exception of the human now readjusting his interior.

"Damn classic cars," Ron Witwicky muttered, sliding the seat back. He started the car, drove off to meet his wife. The kid better appreciate this. . .

This human wasn't as careful or considerate as the youngling, but at least he was moving. It felt good to move, speed would be even better. But damn the humans and their laws. Speeding wasn't allowed. Ultra Magnus would love Earth, with all its human laws and details, Rodimus thought. But he didn't know if Kup and the old general were alive. At least he knew now Springer was on Earth. That was a large weight lifted off the shoulders of the young Prime. His brother was safe, but he didn't say anything more than that. It was enough. It had to be.

-----


	4. Chapter 4

Fugitives

Chapter 4-Release

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

Spike yawned as his aunt pulled the car to a stop in front of a Chinese restaurant. The blinking neon sign said "Happy Dragon Tea House." He shot his aunt a look.

"What? Don't look at me that way. . .your uncle likes this place. Cheapo. . .the food is good. And I thought you said you liked Chinese?" Judy said, climbing out of the car. "C'mon, Spike, get the lead out so we can get a table before this place gets crowded."

Spike yawned again, did as he was told, practically fell down when his aunt grabbed him by the arm, yanked him toward the door when she saw Ron in the Mustang, turning the corner.

"I told you. . ." she said, pulling the boy inside. Once they were inside the door, she smoothed her hair back, smiled at Spike. "Now. Let's get a table and you can tell me about your day."

Spike suffered through dinner, which was really good, listened to his aunt and uncle bicker, noticed the weird silences each time Sam came up in conversation. What kind of internship was his cousin doing, anyway? And where was it? He couldn't remember hearing anyone say. Strange, but he'd get to the bottom of it later. He turned his attention back to the conversation. His aunt was going off on something new.

". . .so I told him that if I caught another skunk in the office, I was going to shove him in a closet with it. . ."

Not the skunk story. He'd heard it on the way over.

"Judy, I told you just get some of those live traps and stick them around the property so it won't be a problem anymore," Ron said.

"Are you gonna be the one who comes and takes them somewhere else?" she asked. "Because it will not be me."

"Yeah, whatever," Ron said. "I'll take the four-legged kind over the two-legged skunks at work any day."

He noticed Spike was looking bored. Or tired. Or somewhere in between. Maybe it was time to hand over the keys and get the kid home.

"So, Spike," Ron said. "Your aunt and I have something we want to give you."

Spike watched as his uncle reached into a pocket, withdrew a set of keys, put them down on the table in front of him. He picked them up, turning them over in his hand. Keys? Keys to what? Then it dawned on him. This was a familiar set of keys, keys he'd had in his hands several times over the past two days. The keys to the Mustang.

"Seriously? You didn't. . ." he said.

Judy smiled. "It's parked around the corner. It's all yours," she said. "But you can't drive it yet, you know that. We'll get go get you your license tomorrow afternoon."

Ron clapped him on the shoulder. "I'll drive you home in it, if you like," he said.

Spike grinned. "Thanks," he said. "I don't know if I can ever. . ."

"Just try and stay out of trouble," Ron said. "That's all we ask."

-----

The humans thought they *owned* him? Well, thinking was one thing, actually owning him was another. He'd act like one of their machines as long as needed, not a moment longer. But he was intrigued. By listening to the boy's conversation with the older male on the way to their dwelling, what Rodimus learned wasn't much. They talked about sports, the mental status of the older male's mate, and the weather. And then he found himself parked in front of the house, keys removed, and locked for the night.

If he was in his natural form, he would've found something hard to smack his head against until he was offline, but unable to do so, Rodimus settled for accessing the humans' network, surfing their Internet. Not very exciting, but it was something to do.

-----

Spike couldn't sleep. There was something he had to do. He threw on a pair of cargo shorts and a t-shirt, padded downstairs. He let himself out, walked down the sidewalk, stopping only once to look up toward his aunt and uncle's bedroom window, hoping he hadn't waken them. He unlocked the Mustang's door, climbed in, looked down at what he held in his hand. His dad's dog tags. Spike reached up, draped them over the rearview mirror. He ran a finger down the chain, rubbed a thumb over the name engraved on one of the tags.

Spike sighed. "Dad, I wish you were here to see this," he said. "I miss you. . ."

He put his hands on the steering wheel, bit his lip. He wasn't going to cry. He hadn't yet, and he wasn't going to. . .but he couldn't hold back any longer. He slumped over the steering wheel, finally releasing all the pent up anger and grief he'd been carrying around for weeks.

The young human's emotional display did not go unnoticed, either by the mechanical being he was occupying or his uncle, who was standing outside the car, watching. Ron waited until Spike was wiping his eyes before opening the door.

"Not planning on taking a midnight drive, are you?" he asked, climbing into the passenger side.

"Uh no. . .," Spike said, stifling a sniffle. "Just wanted to put something where I think it belongs."

Ron noticed the dog tags hanging over the mirror.

"You don't think it's weird, do you?" Spike asked. "This way, it'll be like he's always with me."

Ron put a hand on Spike's shoulder. "I don't think it's weird. I think Irving would be proud you thought of it," Ron said. "I am. It's just the sort of thing he would've done."

"Really?" Spike said.

"Yeah," Ron said. "You know, you're a lot like him. Same damn stubborn streak. . .love of cars that will get you in trouble. . ."

Spike grinned at that. "I heard the two of you got in trouble a few times with cars," he said.

"We vowed never to speak of it," Ron said. "At least the Charger incident. Now, the trouble with that Mustang of his. . .hey--whatever happened to it? I know he always talked about tracking it down. . ."

"He did," Spike said. "He bought it back. It's in storage in Colorado, he gave me the keys before he deployed, told me we'd fix it up when he got back. . ."

"He found it? I don't believe it," Ron said.

"Yeah," Spike said. "But Uncle Ben doesn't know. I didn't tell anybody. It's in storage with the rest of our stuff from the house."

Ron raised an eyebrow questioningly. "Why not?"

"Because Uncle Ben sold Dad's pickup and he would've sold the Mustang, too," Spike said. "He said a lot of our stuff just needed pitching because what am I going to do with any of it?"

Ron could feel his blood pressure rising. "Did Ben keep the money for himself?"

"No, he put it in a savings account for me I can't touch until I'm old enough to go to college," Spike said.

Ron breathed a sigh of relief.

"Spike, son, c'mon. . .it's late," Ron said.

Spike got out, took one look back at the car, let his uncle put his arm around him as he walked him inside the house. Maybe things would be OK after all.

-----


	5. Chapter 5

Fugitives

Chapter 5-Diffuse

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

A Friday night. Spike Witwicky had his license, the Mustang was all shined up and his aunt never said he couldn't take the car out now everything was nice and legal. Hinting casually a few times over the past week helped. Spike grinned as his aunt yelled at him as he ran out the back door.

"Don't forget to leave your phone on and be home by 11, or you're grounded, young man," she shouted.

Now he sat on the Mustang's hood, parked at the local drive-in, watching the other kids talk, milling around in their cliques. A part of him wished he wasn't an outsider but for the moment, it was best. Too many changes already, too much baggage for someone his age. That was what he overheard the psychologist say when his uncle Ben was talking behind his back one day.

What did anyone expect? His dad dying and his own move to his aunt and uncle's place were the latest changes in the long line of upheavals making up his life. Getting uprooted from home in Colorado Springs, where his dad was stationed with the 10th Special Forces Group and getting sent to his other aunt's place for the rest of the school year came before that. Arguing with his dad before the deployment, the promises he made before leaving. Promises he didn't live to keep. But that was all over now. It was his first night of freedom, and he was going to enjoy it. Spike slid off the car hood, got in, driving off into the night.

88888

Diego Garcia

Lennox strolled into the communications hangar, yawning. It wasn't as early as it could be, but it was a Saturday morning. The teams in the field kept checking in and so far, everything was fine. But the blips NORAD was tracking were not good sign. The soldier stopped next to Optimus Prime,who was listening to Prowl talk.

"Two cometary forms, moving very fast," Prowl said. "I recommend putting two teams into the air the instant we know where they come down."

"Two teams is too many," Optimus said. "We're going to stretch ourselves too thin, then were will be be? I think we should have one of the teams guarding one of the dormant Seekers make contact."

"All right," Prowl said, turning back to the main screen. He frowned, turning his attention back to Optimus Prime.

"Optimus, the cometary forms-they just vanished," Prowl said.

88888

Nine planets in the system, and only one had any signs of life. Primitive and organic. Hardly a suitable hiding place for a Cybertronian, Cyclonus thought. The planet called Earth should have already fallen to the Decepticons, if there were any left worth their mettle. Of course, the Seeker would deal with the Autobots himself after he killed the young Prime, Rodimus.

And now they were close enough to the planet, Cyclonus could feel Scourge's eagerness to hunt, which meant only one thing.

:Do you sense him?: Cyclonus asked.

:Don't you? He burns brightly: Scourge answered, transforming from his cometary form. :I want to rip his spark out with my bare hands for what he did to my Sweeps:

:You'll have your revenge: Cyclonus said. :He's young and he'll die quickly:

:Then why do we waste time talking?: Scourge snapped.

:Take us to him: Cyclonus said, also transforming. He waited as Scourge opened a transpatial portal; one moment they were looking down on the planet, the next they were on its surface.

88888

The lake. Nice and quiet, Spike thought, laying back on the Mustang's hood, staring up at the stars. So many, and just thinking about how much space was up there made his head spin. One second stars, then a crack like the sky breaking open, a flash. He sat up, blinking, hoping his eyes would adjust back to the dark.

What the hell? More flashes of light, bolts of light, actually. He was being shot at. . .by what looked like two giant robots. Before he could move, the metal of the car beneath him began to shift, dumping him to the ground. He watched, stunned, as the Mustang became a tower of metal on two legs, and began firing back.

"Get your aft off the ground and run. Do you want to die?" it shouted.

Spike didn't argue. He ran for the trees, followed by what used to be his car. . .then another crack. . .and they were gone.


	6. Chapter 6

Fugitives

Chapter 6-Static

Disclaimer: I don't own Transformers. They belong to Hasbro and Takara. I am merely taking them for a short spin.

CRACK.

They would find them, and they would die. He couldn't run far or fast enough. He wasn't strong enough on his own to take two ancient, powerful Seekers. Only with the help of his twin, Kup and Ultra Magnus had he managed to hold them off once before, and only then because he'd manifested a second ability, resulting in the death of Scourge's Sweeps. He wasn't about to try it now, not with the human in tow. He'd only used it once, and he'd burned everything. . .

Maybe if he transformed they couldn't find him? He was fast. They could hide. He wouldn't leave his charge, either. Speaking of, he panicked, wondering if the human child was still with him. Rodimus looked around, tension ebbing slightly as he noticed the boy picking himself up out of the dirt. He watched him stand, cursing, coming his way.

The Autobot transformed, hoping the human would take the hint. The boy stood there, unmoving.

"Get in if you want to live," Rodimus said.

"What?"

"Get in. Now."

The driver's side door opened on its own. Spike stared, unsure.

He got in.

"Where are we?" Spike asked.

"I don't know," Rodimus answered "I'm not about to transform. And get rid of your communication device. They can track us with that."

"But. . ."

"No arguments. Now. Throw it out the window," he said.

Spike complied. Rodimus backed up, satisfied with the crunch of the phone beneath his wheels.

"My aunt is gonna kill me," Spike said. "Who were those guys after us anyway?"

"I doubt that," Rodimus said. "Because those two 'guys' will probably kill us before you have a chance to contact your family."

88888

Lennox ran into the communications center, followed by Epps. Optimus was already there, staring at the screens, Prowl beside him.

"What's going on?" Lennox asked.

Prowl turned, staring down at the humans.

"Space bridges opening and closing," Prowl said. "Two, possibly three, but we can't be sure of the third."

"Where?" Lennox said.

"Just outside Tranquility, Nevada," Prowl answered. He waited for the gravity of the situation to sink in.

"That's Sam's home town," Lennox said. "Get him in here now."

88888

Spike didn't come home on time. He wasn't answering his phone. Judy Witwicky looked at the time on her phone, sighed, taking one last look out at the empty driveway. The first night they let the kid out of the house on his own with his drivers license and a car, and he's late. She took a deep breath. Spike was probably out cruising around, and he'd pull in any minute with some lame excuse about forgetting the time. Wouldn't he?

Her nephew knew what was riding on his agreement to follow the rules. He messed up, it would be serious. No car, no phone, no license, no freedom. Just work and the four walls of his bedroom for the entirety of the summer. But she was starting to worry. And finally, her phone rang. She looked down at the phone in her hand, her worry changing to real fear when she saw the number.

Hands shaking, flipped open the phone.

Maj. Lennox. Not a good sign.

"Yes?" Judy said.

"Ma'am," Lennox said. "Look, for now, everything's OK, but we need you to keep an eye out for. . .uh, anything unusual."

"Like our friends from out of town?" she said.

"Exactly," he said. "We've got a couple of teams on the ground in the States right now, and we're diverting one from Texas. They won't be there until morning because they don't have weather clearance. Also, we're sending Sam, Leo and Bumblebee your way. They won't be there for at least a full day, day and a half at the earliest."

"Major, thanks for letting me know," Judy said.

"No problem."

And the call was over.

She sighed, trying Spike's phone again, getting his voicemail. She left another message, walked up stairs. She would deal with her nephew in the morning.

88888


End file.
